


An Introduction To The Woman

by afteriwake



Series: All Of Time And Space [29]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft insists on Sherlock working a case involving Irene Adler, the infamous dominatrix known as The Woman. Irene is full of surprises, but Sherlock has a few of his own, and at the end of the case there are changes in store for Irene and a surprising revelation for certain members of the Holmes family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a re-write of the Sherlock episode "A Scandal In Belgravia," with a Wholock twist. Many thanks to my beta **lotl101** for all the helpful corrections and my artist **trickster88** for the wonderful art.

They had just arrived back from their honeymoon three days before. It had been an experience, and the Doctor had come through on his promise of giving them an adventure where they were not in danger and where nothing had gone wrong. It had been refreshing, to spend that long on a trip with the Doctor with no problems in the company of just his wife. Melody had been under the care of the Doctor and so far seemed no worse than before. 

Amelia opened the front door, adjusted her sunglasses and they made their way out the door. The press was outside their home, even at seven in the morning, and Amy pushed through, Sherlock behind her. “Amelia! Amy, look here! Sherlock, you as well!”

Sherlock paused. No one had called out for a picture of him before. Amy stopped after a moment and looked at him curiously, and he hurried up to her, flipping his coat up a bit to cover his face.

“That’s unusual,” Amy muttered as he hailed them a cab.

“We disappeared for three weeks after you flashed your wedding band. They’re going to want pictures of the happy married couple,” he murmured as the cab pulled up. He opened the door and they got in. They were on their way to meet John and Amy had decided not to drive. Mrs. Hudson was watching Melody for them, and it was just going to be a normal, ordinary day. Sherlock hadn’t even given the driver John’s address when a man came up to his side of the car and banged on the window. Amy jumped but Sherlock remained calm. He lowered the window. “You had best have a good reason for doing that,” he replied.

“You’re Sherlock Holmes?” he said, clearly out of breath. Sherlock got a better look at him: morbidly obese, halitosis, wide eyes with dilated pupils. It must be someone wanting him to solve a case, though most of the time they contacted John first since John was the blogger. Sherlock nodded. “I need your help.”

Amy shook her head. “I’ll call John,” she said as Sherlock opened the door and got out, Amy right behind him. The man looked at him, trying to catch his breath, and then promptly fell in a dead faint. “That’s going to be a lovely picture,” Amy murmured as Sherlock checked for a pulse. “Should I call for an ambulance?”

“No need,” he told her. Then he looked up. “Does anyone have any smelling salts?” Sherlock called out. The only response he got was more pictures being taken. With a sigh, he let himself back in and went to the first aid kit John had gotten when he’d moved in and left when he moved out. They had never had to use it so it took a bit for him to find it. He rummaged through it, got the smelling salts and went back outside. He opened the package and waved them under the man’s nose, and after a moment his eyes opened. “Get up and come in,” he said with a sigh.

The man did, and Amy followed them back inside. She went to tell Mrs. Hudson that their plans had changed while the man sat down where he was told to and Sherlock paced in front of him. “What do you need to know?” he said.

“Everything, and make sure it’s not boring,” he replied.

The man told his story, and Sherlock listened, growing more bored with it. Car stalled, car backfired, man in field died, could Sherlock Holmes prove he hadn’t done it? This had been happening a lot; since Moriarty had been taken out of the picture the crimes seemed less challenging. It was almost a disappointment. He didn’t want to leave his home to go look at the scene, so after the man got done telling him what had happened Sherlock got on the phone. John picked up after two rings. “Amy told me we have a case.”

“Yes. I need you to go to where the body was found. Take the computer, and make sure they have wi-fi.”

“You’re not going?” he asked, surprised.

“It’s a four, John,” he replied.

“And what does that have to do with it?”

“I only leave the house for a seven or higher.”

He sighed. “Fine, fine. You might want to have Lestrade warn whoever’s in charge.”

“Warn for what?”

“You.”

“Why would he need a warning?”

“Just call Lestrade and tell him you’ve been asked to work on this case. It will make things easier for me.”

“Very well.” Sherlock hung up and dialed Lestrade’s number. Lestrade picked up on the first ring. “I’ve been asked to consult on a case.”

“By who?” Lestrade asked. “And which case?”

“By the suspect, for the case where the hiker was found dead in the field. Or at least he believes himself to be a suspect.”

“That’s not my jurisdiction,” he said.

“Yes, well, John said I should call you.”

Lestrade was quiet for a moment. “I’ll see what I can do. But no guarantees. I need to find out who’s on the case first. That will take some time.”

“I already sent John.”

Lestrade sighed. “I’ll get right on it.”

“Thank you.”

“Good to know you’re back, by the way. I have another case for you when this one’s finished.”

“All right. I’ll be in touch later.” He hung up on Lestrade as Amy came back with Melody and looked at the scene. 

“Interesting case?” she asked.

“No. I sent John to go look it over,” he said with a sigh. “This is a waste of a morning.”

“Then why don’t you go back to sleep until John calls you? You didn’t really want to get up this morning anyway,” she suggested. “I’ll keep the guest company.”

“He’s not a guest, he’s a client,” Sherlock said.

“Same difference. Go. Sleep.”

He went to their room, stripped down and climbed back into bed. He wanted a challenge. Most of the cases that crossed his way weren’t all that challenging or even interesting. John had taken to blogging about them after the encounter with Moriarty and it seemed as though the blog was popular. John said that was where most of their walk-in cases came from. It showed. No one had anything compelling. He was forced to rely on Lestrade for cases that actually made his brain work for a change, and those were not as frequent.

It was maybe an hour later when Amy knocked on the door. “John’s on the home line. He’s at the site and has the computer set up.”

“Thank you,” he replied. He didn’t feel like getting dressed again so he threw off the blanket, pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around himself.

Amy chuckled slightly at the sight. “You must really not give a damn about this case.”

“It’s a four. I only give a damn about sevens and higher,” he said. “Lestrade has a case for me as soon as this one’s finished.”

She kissed him quickly. “I hope that one’s a seven or higher. You get grumpy when you don’t have a challenge.”

“I do not get grumpy,” he said defensively.

“Oh yes you do,” she said with a laugh. “I live with you. I know.” She turned at that and went back to where the client was. 

He followed, and ignoring the man he turned on his computer and got onto the program they used to communicate via computers. “Very well. Go to where the man died.”

“Are you wearing a sheet?” Watson asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I wear a sheet now,” he said. He held off on adding the Doctor’s catchphrase at the end; he didn’t think wearing a sheet was cool, and it would have fallen flat anyway. There was a knock at the door. “Go away,” he called out. He watched on his monitor, and then Watson turned it back to him. “Where’s the car?”

Watson turned the camera and showed him. “That’s it,” he said off screen.

“Give me to the man in charge,” he said. He vaguely noticed Amy had gone to answer the door. He started to explain that the idiot in his living room couldn’t have possibly done it when two men entered behind Amelia. He did a quick scan of the one in front: expensive suit, right handed, indoor job, office worker, one…no, three dogs. Before the man even opened his mouth he knew what was going on.

“Your presence is requested,” he said to Sherlock, shutting his computer screen. Then he turned to Amy. “Go get him some clothes.”

“Don’t bother, Amelia,” Sherlock said. “I know exactly who wants my presence.”

“Mycroft?” she guessed.

“Precisely.”

“Go in the sheet,” she said impishly, a wicked grin on her face.

“I intend to,” he said.

“It’s important,” the man said.

“I know. But if Mycroft wants to see me he’ll just have to take me as I am, and right now I feel like wearing a sheet.”

The man looked at Amelia, who raised her hands. “Don’t ask me to change his mind. I have no fondness for my brother-in-law. If I can tweak his nose then I do it.”

“I won’t be changing my mind,” Sherlock replied.

“Bring a change of clothes anyway,” the man said with a sigh. “Maybe you’ll change your mind when we get there.”

“I doubt it,” Sherlock muttered. Then he looked at Amy. “Go ahead, Amelia.” Amy nodded and went to their room.

“What about my case?” the client asked, tired of being ignored.

“Give your contact information to my wife and I will get back to you later,” he said with a sigh. The man pulled out a business card and got up, walking over to Sherlock and handing him the card. He took it and nodded, and the man left. Amy came with his clothes five minutes later and handed them to the man who had been speaking. “Thank you.”

“Have fun,” she said, giving him a quick kiss after he stood up. “Tell Mycroft I said bugger off.”

He grinned slightly at that. “I’ll be sure to let him know.” And with that, he followed the men out to the car. He wasn’t sure which photo the paparazzi were going to use first, the one of him reviving the man or the one of him in the sheet. It didn’t matter, he supposed as he got in the waiting car. Either way they were going to have a field day with him today.

He was taken to Buckingham Palace and shown to a room with two loveseats in it, facing each other. He sat down and waited. Sherlock was still sitting alone when John arrived. John looked at him strangely for a moment, and then sat down. “Didn’t change?” he said.

“It’s Mycroft’s invitation,” he said, pulling his sheet tighter around him.

John cracked a smile. “Ah. That explains it.” He looked around a bit. “Know what we’re doing here?”

“Don’t have a clue,” Sherlock replied.

John focused on a table to his left. “You don’t know what the temptation feels like to snatch an ashtray.”

“I can imagine,” Sherlock said with the ghost of a grin.

“Think we’ll get to see the Queen?” he asked.

At just that moment Mycroft walked in. “Already here,” Sherlock murmured, and both men began to laugh. 

Mycroft looked at his brother, then at the clothes in front of him. “Change,” he said sternly.

“No.” Sherlock gave him his most defiant look, and Mycroft glared back.

“You’re making me look like a laughingstock,” he said, pained.

“Good. I don’t like having people come into my home and boss myself or my wife around. I’m a grown man, not a child. This isn’t the old days. And besides, I was in the middle of a case.”

“It wasn’t much of a case,” Mycroft said. “It’s pretty self-explanatory how the man died.”

“True, but I was working. That is how I make my living, after all, even on easily solved cases.”

“You’re an embarrassment to me, and God knows you’ve embarrassed your wife today with this stunt,” Mycroft said, shaking his head. “How is she doing, at any rate?”

“She’s fine. She told me to tell you to bugger off. And, point of fact, she approved of my choice in attire.”

Mycroft looked disgusted for a second. “Neither of you really grew up, I see. You both still like tweaking my nose. It’s just like that day when you pretended to be pirates.”

“At least we’re not locking you out of the house this time,” Sherlock replied with a smug smile.

“No, you’re just making my day harder.” A cleared throat got their attention and all three men looked to the other side. “I’m sorry for Sherlock,” Mycroft replied, going to the man who had just entered.

“Apologizing for your brother must be a full time job,” the man said. Sherlock scanned him quickly. This man had power, power that Mycroft could only dream of.

“Quite.” Mycroft shook the man’s hand, and then went back to glaring at his brother.

He went to John. “John Watson, Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers,” he said, offering his hand. John shook it. “And Sherlock Holmes. You appear taller in those photographs splashed in the tabloids.” He did not offer his hand for Sherlock to shake, and Sherlock made no move to offer his.

“It helps that those I spend time with people who are shorter than me,” he said, gripping the sheet tighter. “Why am I here?”

“We have a client for you,” Mycroft said. “A very important client who needs to remain anonymous.”

“No. I have a mystery on one end, I don’t need a mystery as to who my client is, either." He brushed past the two men. “Good day.”

Mycroft stepped on the sheet as Sherlock walked and it pulled down to his waist before he caught it. This was getting very annoying, he realized. “Get off my sheet,” he said without turning around, his voice low and dangerous.

“Or else what?” Mycroft said snidely.

“I’ll let go and keep walking.”

“I just might let you,” Mycroft replied.

“You were asked for personally,” the other man interjected.

Sherlock was quiet for a moment. Someone had taken an interest in him. This was interesting. “By whom?”

“Your client. A young royal. A female royal. She’s a great fan of Dr. Watson’s blog. She would very much appreciate your help.” Mycroft paused. “It involves a woman and a compromising situation.”

“And what else?” he asked, turning around to look at them. Mycroft stepped off the sheet so he did not get more tangled.

“Photographs. But not for blackmail.” The man paused. “The woman with the photographs is also a fan of yours, I’m told.”

“Interesting,” he murmured.

“Now get dressed, Sherlock, and sit and listen to the rest,” Mycroft said impatiently.

Sherlock sighed. “Very well.” He went back to the clothes Amelia had picked out, grabbed them, and went to where the other man directed him to change. He had never had her pick out his clothes before, but she knew his taste well enough. She had also folded his coat and put it in with the clothes. He got dressed quickly, and on the way back paused at a table. Quickly he grabbed an ashtray that was on it and put it inside his suit jacket.

Once he returned he found that tea had been served. He sat where he had been sitting and Mycroft sat across from him, the other man sitting across from John. There was a cup for him but he ignored it. John seemed to be the only one drinking it.

“Do you know this woman?” Mycroft asked, handing Sherlock a picture.

He looked at her for a moment. He didn’t pay attention to most of the news, so if she was on it he hadn’t seen her. And the only celebrity he knew was his wife, so if she was one of those he wouldn’t have known either. “No,” he said, looking back up at his brother.

“She’s named Irene Adler. She is a dominatrix, also known as The Woman.” Mycroft handed him a folder, and Sherlock pulled out the photographs inside, flipping through them. They were stills of pages of a website, and he quickly read the text on each of them. There were risqué pictures, but he ignored those completely except to note they were of the same woman in the first photograph. “She’s been involved in two political scandals, and recently destroyed the marriage of a well-known novelist by being with both parties in the marriage.”

“You should simply pay her,” he said, looking up after he looked at the last picture from her website. “Based on what I’ve seen of her website she won’t willingly hand them over. Pay her and sweep it under the rug.”

The other man shook his head. “That’s the thing. She called, said she had the photographs and that was all. No demands for money. It was simply her informing us that she had them.”

“And it’s credible?” Sherlock asked.

“Your client confirms pictures had been taken.”

“A power play,” Sherlock said, a slight grin on his face. He stood up. “Do you know where she lives?”

“Yes,” Mycroft said standing up as well, and John and the other man rose too after John put down his tea.

“Text me her information,” he said, turning to the other gentleman. “I need equipment. Your lighter, please.”

“I don’t smoke,” he replied.

“But your employer does.” Sherlock held out his palm.

The man looked at him, and then fished a lighter out of his pocket. “Keep that quiet,” he said.

“Fine,” he replied, moving to the exit. “I will contact you this afternoon.”

“You’ll have information that quickly?” the other man asked.

“I’ll have the photographs,” he said as he exited the room completely. It took a moment but soon John fell in step with him. “This might be interesting.”


	2. Chapter 2

Once they were out of Buckingham Palace and settled in a cab, John turned to him. “You have a plan?”

“Of course I have a plan,” he said. And then he looked at him, pulling the ashtray out from inside his coat pocket. “Here.”

John looked and saw the ashtray. He grinned widely. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“It will look quite nice on your coffee table,” he said with a grin of his own. “Much nicer than it looked on the table where it was sitting.”

“Are you going to tell Amy about this case?”

He nodded. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Dominatrix?” John said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock shrugged slightly. “She’d be amused by it, not concerned. She’s not really the jealous type, for which I am eternally grateful.”

“She’s your wife, you know her best,” he said, shaking his head. “Personally any girlfriend I’ve had would have gotten quite upset knowing I went to visit a dominatrix, even if it was just for a case.”

“That just proves I have better taste in women,” Sherlock said with a slight smile.

They continued the ride in silence until the driver stopped and they got out. “Are we here?”

“Two streets away,” he said, leading John into an alley. “Punch me in the face.”

“What? Are you mental?” John said, confused.

“I need to look like I just got mugged,” he said.

“I’m not going to hit you. Amy would kill me,” he said.

“Very well,” Sherlock replied. He looked at John carefully, and then slugged him across the face. The response was automatic, and he felt John’s fist hit him under the eye, cutting his skin. Before he could get a word out John hit him in the stomach and he doubled over. “Stop,” he wheezed out as John went to tackle him.

“Don’t ever hit me again,” John said, letting go of him. He moved his jaw around and rubbed it.

“Well, I needed you to hit me,” he said, standing up straighter. “Now, for the ruse to be complete.” He buttoned his shirt all the way up and then felt inside his coat pocket and pulled out the strip of cardboard he kept there. He inserted it into the collar so he looked like a priest. “There.”

“You as a vicar?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s worked before,” he replied. They walked to Irene’s home as Sherlock explained the plan, and he buzzed the door. 

“Yes?” a woman answered.

Sherlock started to act scared. “Yes, yes. I’ve been mugged. Two men, they stole my wallet and they hit me. I need to call the police.”

“I’d be more than happy to call the police for you,” the woman said.

“Yes, well, I don’t feel safe out here. Could I come in and wait? I feel so vulnerable out here.”

There was a pause. “All right. I’ll let you in.”

He thought he did well but he glanced at John when he was done and saw him rolling his eyes. The woman let them in and he saw it was not Irene Adler. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” John came in behind him. “He’s my witness. He doesn’t have a phone or else we’d have used his.”

“Hello. I’m a doctor. Can I get something to clean his wound?” John asked.

“Of course. Let me find a place for you to sit first, Vicar, and then I’ll take you to the kitchen.” The woman led Sherlock to a sitting room, and he sat down on the sofa and waited.

“I don’t think Kate caught your name,” he heard a woman’s voice say from the doorway a few moments later. He turned, and saw Irene Adler, completely naked. He was surprised, but not terribly. “It’s hard to remember an alias when you’ve had a fright, isn’t it?” She moved in front of him and took the cardboard out of his shirt. “Now we’re both defrocked, aren’t we, Sherlock Holmes?”

He scowled just slightly. “Miss Adler,” he said

“Yes, that would be me.” She gave him a smile. “Such lovely, sharp cheekbones. If I slapped your face I’d probably cut myself on them.” Her grin widened slightly into a more seductive look. “Would you like me to try?”

He was saved from answering by the arrival of John, with a basin and a napkin. Irene had put the cardboard between her teeth before she turned to look at him. “I’m missing something,” he said, taking the hand with the napkin and scratching his head.

“Introductions,” Sherlock replied. “This is Miss Adler.”

“Ah,” John said, clearly uncomfortable. “Would you put something on?”

“Do I make you nervous?” Irene asked, going over to the chair and sitting down, covering herself slightly and crossing her legs. She focused her attention on John now, and Sherlock was getting a trifle annoyed. He wanted to get the pictures, not play games with a naked woman.

“Just uncomfortable,” John replied, looking away. 

Sherlock stood up and took off his coat, holding it towards her and shaking it once. She looked at it, sighing, and then stood up and put his coat on. Sherlock moved to where she had been but did not sit, and she took his spot on the sofa and took off her heels. “You are no fun,” she murmured, looking at John. Then she turned to Sherlock. “How did the man die?” she asked.

“What man?” Sherlock said.

“The one in the field,” she replied. “The hiker with the bashed in head. You had to have solved it already, as clever as you are.”

“How did you know that?” John asked. “It hasn’t been in the news.”

“I know a detective attached to the case. Or rather, I know what he likes. _Very_ well, actually.” She looked at him with a sly smile and gave him a seductive stare.

“You like detectives?” Sherlock asked mildly.

“Yes, I do,” she said, turning back to Sherlock. “Detective stories and detectives. After all, brainy is the new sexy.”

He looked at her closely, but he wasn’t able to scan her. He turned to John and looked at him. Two-day shirt, bags under his eyes meaning he’d had a late night with Stamford, and he could tell he’d gotten a new toothbrush and was using an electric razor and not a blade. He turned back to Irene and still couldn’t deduce anything about her. “That’s not why I’m here,” he said, frowning. This was highly unusual. There had never been a person he couldn’t scan before.

“I know it’s not. You’re here for the photographs, but I’m not going to let you have them. Since we’re all chatting anyway, I’m curious to know what happened. So tell me. How was he murdered?”

“He wasn’t,” Sherlock said, mumbling the words slightly. He shook his head and tried again. “He wasn’t murdered.”

“You don’t believe it was murder?” she said, surprised. She put both feet on the floor and her elbows on her thighs and leaned forward. “How can you tell?”

“The position of the car and the fact that the blow was to the back of the head. That’s all you need to know, really.”

“Yes, but how do you _know_?” she asked.

“The same way I know he was an athlete in good condition returned from a foreign country. It’s also the same way I know the photographs are in this room.” 

“But how?” she asked, slightly confused.

“So they _are_ in here,” he replied. He turned to John. “Could you leave us? Make sure no one disturbs us.” John nodded, leaving the water and napkin on the table near the door and heading out the door, shutting it behind him. “Two men, some distance apart, and one car. The driver is trying to fix it, the hiker is in the field, staring at something.”

“I thought you were going to look for the photographs,” she said, even more confused now.

“I’ll find them. We’re just chatting, after all, and we have a moment. Think. The driver’s at the car, trying to get it to work and having no luck. The hiker is in the field looking at something. Something is going to happen.”

“He’s going to be killed,” she replied, leaning back in her seat.

“No, that’s the result. Something else happens. You think brainy is the new sexy. Use your brain.”

She thought. He waited, somewhat impatiently. Then her face lit up as she comprehended what he’d meant. “The car is going to backfire.”

“Exactly. A loud noise is going to draw his attention away.”

“What’s so important about the noise?” she asked.

“Noises can tell you all sorts of things.” Suddenly a smoke alarm went off and Irene immediately looked at the mirror. “Thank you. You’ve told me everything I need to know.” He went to the mantle and ran his fingers underneath. “When a mother hears a fire alarm she looks for her child. When someone trying to hide something hears a fire alarm they look to where it’s hidden so they can get it and leave quickly.” Finding the latch he switched it, and the mirror slid up to reveal a touchpad safe. He looked at it closely. “You should always wear gloves when putting in your code. I know the first number is three, and I know the rest. I’ll figure out the order in a moment.”

The door burst open and John was pushed inside by three men with guns. “Both of you, on your knees, one of them told him and Irene. Irene lowered herself to her knees while John stumbled into that position after being pushed one last time. Two of the men got behind them and pointed guns at their heads. The third man, the one who had issued the order, turned to Sherlock. “Open the safe.”

“Americans,” Sherlock murmured. “I don’t know the code,” he said a little more loudly.

“Shoot Dr. Watson in the head on the count of three,” he told the man behind John. “One.” There was a pause. “Two.” There was another pause. “Three.”

“Wait.” Sherlock said. “I can open the safe.” 

“Do it,” the man holding the gun on him said.

Sherlock looked at the keypad, and then entered in Irene’s measurements. A woman as vain and confident as her would use something like that as a code. The safe unlocked. He looked over at her, then put his hand on the handle of the safe. “Vatican cameos,” he said, knowing John would understand, and then he opened the safe and ducked. A shot rang out of the safe, hitting the man behind John. Sherlock disarmed the man in charge and saw that Irene had gotten the gun from the man behind her. She looked at him, breathing hard. “Knock him out,” he said.

She took the gun and pistol whipped the man who she had subdued. “Better?” she asked Sherlock.

“Much,” he replied. “John, go find out how they got in.” Irene looked away and he looked into the safe, grabbing the phone in there and slipping it into his pocket.

He headed out into the foyer and looked around, Irene following him. When John called him from upstairs he went up the stairs to Irene’s room. “They came in here,” he said. There was a woman on the floor. “She’s only unconscious,” he said to Irene, who had followed Sherlock.

“She’s used to that,” Irene replied.

“Go contact the police,” Sherlock said. John nodded and left the room, stepping just outside the door, and Sherlock pulled out Irene’s phone and showed it to her. “All of your photos are on this phone.”

“Give it to me,” she said, going to her table. She opened a drawer. “It’s my insurance, my protection.”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” he said, turning it on. It was password protected, with the words “I AM _ _ _ _ LOCKED” on the screen. He looked at it intently and suddenly felt her plunge something into his arm.

“Let go of it,” she said.

“No,” he said as the room began to spin. He could hear John come back in as she grabbed her riding crop and hit him across the back. “You…can’t…” He dropped to his knees.

“Give it to me.” She hit him one more time and then he heard a dull thud. 

With the last of his reliable vision he saw John standing over Irene, who was on the floor. “I don’t like to hit women but if I have to I will,” he said. “How am I going to get you out of here?”

“Call…the Doctor. Get …Irene…out.” And with that he slumped on the floor, still gripping Irene’s phone tightly. He lifted his head at one point and then let it fall down with a thud.

John pulled out his phone. If he was changing his mind to have him call the Doctor instead of leaving Irene to the police he had to have a reason. He dialed the number that the time traveler had given him. It was picked up after one ring. “Hello?” the Doctor asked.

“Can you land the TARDIS inside a room smaller than the Oval Office?” he asked.

“I can if there’s room. Why?”

“I have three unconscious people, Sherlock included, and he wants us gone before the police get here, and a woman as well.”

“All right. What’s the date and address and what room are you in?” John gave all that information to him, and within moments the TARDIS appeared in the only space it would fit. The door swung open and both the Doctor and Jack Harkness came out.

“What the hell happened here?” Jack asked, looking confused.

“It’s a long story,” John said. He pointed to Irene’s assistant. “Short version is she was drugged by Americans, Sherlock was drugged by Miss Adler and I knocked Miss Adler out before she could get her hands on her phone.”

“Who are we taking other than Sherlock?” the Doctor asked.

“Miss Adler,” he said, pointing to Irene. “She’s naked under that coat.”

“Get her something to wear, then,” the Doctor replied, helping Jack get Sherlock off the floor. John went to her closet, picked out a black dress that looked like it would do the trick, and then went to Irene. He picked her up, still holding the dress, and carried her onto the TARDIS. “Very well. Where to now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what Sherlock’s plan was,” John said.

“Then let’s go get Amy and wait until they wake up,” Jack suggested. The Doctor and John both stared at him. “You know if Sherlock’s hurt she’s going to want to know.”

“That’s as good a plan as any, I suppose,” the Doctor said, going back to the controls. “I want to know exactly what happened.” He began flipping levers and making adjustments to the console. “And I’m sure Amy will too.”

“I’m rather dreading that part,” John said. “Where should I put her?”

“In Amy’s old room,” he replied. “I don’t know how full the other rooms are. Jack, you and I will take Sherlock to his room as soon as I pilot us out of here.” He went to the console and began doing things with the levers, buttons and switches, and then stopped. “We’re near Amy’s home. Let’s get Sherlock to his room.”

The Doctor and Jack picked Sherlock up and carried him. He started to flail around a bit and they nearly dropped him three times. When they got him settled they found John waiting outside. “Someone needs to watch him while I’m gone to get Amy. And someone also needs to watch Miss Adler.”

“I’ll watch Sherlock,” John said.

“I’ll watch our other occupant,” Jack said. John handed him the dress. “Not my size, John,” he said with a grin.

“It’s for her,” John replied.

“I know. Just trying to lighten the mood.” He headed back to Amy’s old room. “I’ll put his coat outside once she’s dressed,” he called back to them.

“Right. You go in with him. I’ll go get his wife.” The Doctor left John there, and about forty minutes later Amy came back, holding Melody in her arms and balancing a handbag on her shoulder. “Tell her what happened.”

“He was drugged,” John said. “He seemed to be hallucinating but now he’s stopped, more or less. He wasn’t making any sense.”

Amy put Melody in her crib and then looked at her husband. He was muttering things and kept shaking. “Who did this to him?” she said, anger in her voice.

“Our other companion for the time being,” the Doctor replied. “She’s out cold.”

“How?”

“I punched her,” John said.

“Who punched Sherlock?” she asked, sitting on the bed and touching his face gently.

“I did as well,” John said. “But he told me to.”

Amy looked at him. “If he told you to he must have had a reason, but did you have to hit so hard?”

“He hit me first.”

“Ah,” she said knowingly, as if that explained everything. “I’ll wait here with him. But I want to know everything that happened first.” She looked intently at John. “So start explaining.”

“We have an anonymous client, a royal. We were supposed to get back pictures from Miss Adler, who is a dominatrix. The royal was one of her clients. She saw us but…well…” He paused.

“Yes?”

“She was completely naked. I got uncomfortable and I guess Sherlock was irritated but didn’t care but he still made her put on his coat. Then he tricked her into revealing the pictures were in the room and I left. I set some of her mail on fire to get the smoke alarm to go off. Then three Americans come from upstairs with guns, break into the room, get Sherlock to open the booby-trapped safe and then they were taken out.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a busy day,” the Doctor remarked.

“How did he get drugged?” she asked.

“We went upstairs to see where they’d come from. They broke in through her bedroom. I stepped out of her room to call the police. I heard him make a noise, I came in and she was hitting him with her riding crop, trying to get her hands on her phone, and so I punched her. Sherlock was still coherent enough to tell me to call the Doctor and he picked us up and then he picked you up.”

She nodded. “All right. I’ll keep an eye on him. But don’t let that woman anywhere near me, or I’ll hit her myself.”

“Very well,” the Doctor said.

“Here’s her phone,” John said, pulling the phone from his pocket. “He went to a lot of trouble to keep a hold of it.”

“I bet your pictures are on it,” she said. She took the phone, looked it over and then set it on the nightstand. “Do you know what she gave him?”

“No,” John said.

“Very well,” she said with a sigh. She reached over and brushed Sherlock’s hair away from his eyes. “Guess we just have to wait.”

“I’ll be in the console room if you need me,” the Doctor replied. “You might want to get some ice for your hand John.”

“Yeah,” he replied. 

The two men left, and Amy got up off the bed, moving over to the rocking chair and pulling a book from her purse. “Settle in, Melody,” she said to her daughter. “I think we’ve got a while to wait before your father wakes up.” And with that, she opened her book and began to wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Irene slowly came to, a dull throbbing in her head. She remembered standing over Sherlock Holmes as he held her phone, hitting him with her riding crop, and then…nothing. The good Dr. Watson must have hit her. She had miscalculated greatly; she’d have guessed he would never be the type to hit a woman. Perhaps the soldier training superseded things like traditional manners. She reached up and touched under her eye. It hurt, and she knew she would probably have a black eye soon.

It was when she opened her eyes and looked up that she saw she was no place she recognized. She could also tell she was no longer in Sherlock’s coat; instead she was in a Christian Dior dress she had worn only once before. She didn’t need to look to tell; it had a distinct fit. She remembered it was hard to get in place the last time she wore it, and wondered how much of a hassle someone had had to get her into it while she was passed out cold.

She was on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed, she realized, and all around her there was a hum of machinery that she could clearly hear. She sat up more and looked to the side. There was a man there, in a light blue shirt, blue pants with bracers and a blue greatcoat, sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. He was reading something. “Where am I?” she asked. “And who are you?”

“You’re on the TARDIS,” he said without looking up at first. Then he lifted his head up and gave her a grin. “I’m Jack Harkness. I’m a friend of Sherlock’s.”

She thought he looked vaguely familiar and she could have sworn she recognized the name, but she couldn’t place him. Perhaps he’d been in one of the paparazzi pictures she’d seen of Sherlock. The tabloid press loved to speculate on just who was visiting the model and the consulting detective. Maybe when her head stopped hurting so much she’d remember. “I have a headache,” she said quietly.

“Thought you might,” he replied, going over to the dresser. There was a small glass of water and a bottle of pills on it, and he grabbed them and came over to her. “You’re lucky Amy didn’t rip your head off for stabbing her husband with whatever it is that caused him to pass out. I had to be extra nice to convince her to give me her bottle of pills for you. She wasn’t about to be nice to someone who hurt her husband, but I convinced her we’d learn more if your head wasn’t throbbing when you came to.”

She made a slight face. Yes, Amelia Pond was his wife’s name. She wasn’t all that pretty in her opinion; she didn’t seem to be a classical beauty, just some sort of generic pretty that apparently appealed to consumers. She’d done her research about her; she knew she was from the same town as Sherlock and apparently they had been friendly as children, and that she had an odd reputation involving an imaginary friend. A temper had not been mentioned by anyone, however.

Jack opened the bottle and she held out her hand. He tapped two of them into her palm, and then handed her the water. She swallowed the pills, finished the water and then lay back down. “Is she here?” she asked.

“Taking care of Sherlock,” he replied, going back to his seat. “We’re keeping the two of you apart at least until he wakes up.”

“He’ll be fine,” she said. “How long have I been out?”

“An hour,” he said, checking the watch on his wrist.

“In about four he’ll be awake; in six he’ll be lucid and not so sluggish,” she replied. “Who dressed me?”

“I did,” he replied. “John didn’t want to, and the Doctor’s fiancée would have skinned him alive if he’d done it, but he’s kind of a prude anyway. So I was all that was left.”

“Did you enjoy it?” she asked with a smile.

“Not particularly, no.” She felt a hit to her pride in that statement. “It was a hard dress to get on, and besides, if I’m going to deal with someone who’s naked it’s more fun if they’re awake and participating in trying to get me naked as well.”

So, perhaps he had enjoyed looking at her, just not dressing her. It could be a possibility. “Am I a prisoner here?”

“Sort of. You’re safe here, at any rate,” he said. “For some reason Sherlock didn’t want you in the hands of the police, even after you stabbed him. Until he wakes up you’re stuck with us since we have no idea what he was planning.”

“I was almost killed today,” she replied. She stretched out slightly. The one advantage of this particular bunk bed was that the bottom bed was not a twin, so there was room. She realized no one had gotten shoes for her. “Americans.” Then she paused as something registered. “You sound American.”

He laughed at that. “Trust me, I’m not an American. I just spent enough time there that I adopted the accent.”

“Where are you from, then?” she asked. She was getting intrigued by this Jack Harkness.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said with a grin. “Let’s just say it’s far, far away and leave it at that.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of believing,” she said.

“I’m a time traveller from the 51st century,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve been kicking around with the Doctor lately, but I used to be based in Cardiff, running Torchwood 3. I also used to be a con man. And Jack Harkness isn’t my real name, but I’ve had it for long enough that I’ve grown to like it. And I’m immortal.”

She laughed at that. Really? An immortal time traveller? She looked at him and saw that while he still had a smile on his face, his eyes weren’t filled with laughter, as though it was a big joke. Her laughter tapered down. He really believed this. She stopped laughing and shook her head. “You’re delusional,” she said.

“And you’re on a spaceship,” he replied. “TARDIS is short for ‘Time And Relative Dimension In Space.’”

Now she _knew_ he was crazy. “I don’t believe you.”

“Up for taking a walk?” he said, standing up and extending his hand. She sat up, then reached for it and stood, nearly hitting her head on the top bunk. “I’ll take you to the console room.” He let go of her hand and opened the door, moving to the side so she could walk out first. She did, and he followed behind, giving her directions. When they finally got to the console room her eyes were wide.

John was at the stool, a plastic bag filled mostly with water on his left knuckles, and the Doctor was fiddling with something. John noticed her first. “You’re awake,” he said, almost flatly.

“Where are we?” Jack asked the Doctor.

“In the Alpha Centauri quadrant. Why?” he said.

“I just want to prove a point.” He nodded over to Irene, who wasn’t quite sure what she was seeing, and was nervous about what he was going to show her. “Come on over to the doors.”

She followed him down the stairs to the doors cautiously. The Doctor had figured out what he was going to do because he called over that the oxygen field went out ten feet. Jack opened the doors and her eyes went wide again, wider than before. “We’re actually in space,” she said quietly.

“You can stick your head out and get a better look. I’ll hold onto your hand,” Jack said.

“No. No, I don’t…no,” she said. She took a step back. Space. She was in the middle of space, floating there in some sort of spaceship. Her day had truly gotten unbelievable.

“If you do look outside you’ll see that this looks like it’s a police box,” Jack said. “It takes the concept of ‘bigger on the inside’ to a whole other extreme.”

She looked back at him, stunned. “I had no idea about any of this,” she said quietly.

“Most people don’t,” Jack said with a shrug, shutting the doors and guiding her back to the stairs. “Of course, traveling with the Doctor and being part of Torchwood it’s been a part of my life for a while.”

“Torchwood…” She thought for a moment. Then it hit her. “That’s a government agency,” she said. “Top secret. Even I don’t know what they do, and I have access to all sorts of governmental information.”

“They dealt with aliens and alien tech,” he said with a slight grin. “Of course, now it’s just me and Gwen left, and neither of us feel like losing anything else for the sake of the British government. We leave it up to UNIT now.” He stopped and looked at her. “Let me introduce you to the Doctor.”

“Let me preface this by saying I do not like when bad things happen to my friends, and I am usually not nice to deal with if you are the person who did the bad thing to my friend,” the Doctor said from the console. “However Sherlock said to take you as well so I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.” He stepped away as they got closer. “I’m the Doctor.”

“I’m Irene. Irene Adler,” she said.

“So that’s her.” Amy’s voice came from the stairs leading up to the rest of the TARDIS. John put out an arm to stop her but she pushed past. She got down to Irene, pulled back her fist, and punched her in the face. Irene went reeling and stumbled into the railing. Amy got up to her and grabbed the front of her dress. “What exactly did you drug my husband with? Tell me or by God I will hit you again and this time I’ll break your nose.”

“It’s a sedative and hallucinogenic,” Irene said. “He’ll wake up in about four hours. The effects will wear off completely in six hours.”

“Amelia,” the Doctor said from her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Amelia, let her go.”

Amelia let go, shoving her slightly in the process, and Irene stumbled again, though this time Jack was there to help right her. She turned to the Doctor. “I don’t know why Sherlock wanted her on board, but once we find out I want her _gone_ ,” she said darkly.

“I didn’t know she cared about him so much,” Irene said quietly to Jack, who had remained standing nearby.

“She’s been in love with him since she was nine years old,” Jack said just as quietly. “I don’t doubt she’d kill someone if that’s what it meant to save him or their daughter, if it came down to it. And he would do the same for her. Do you know who Moriarty is?”

“I had some dealings with him,” she said. “He’s disappeared.”

“Sherlock beat him into a coma that he’s not going to wake up from for putting a bomb on Amy,” he said.

Irene’s eyes widened. She had not had many dealings with the man, and never in person, but he was supposed to be brilliant at what he did. To know that Sherlock did that to Moriarty made her feel very differently about him, and it made her wonder what she had ever thought to accomplish by trying to seduce him. Apparently he was not a man to be trifled with.

“Amelia—“ the Doctor was saying as Amy paced in front of him.

“ _Don’t_ tell me to calm down,” she snapped, stopping directly in front of him.

“You need to calm down,” he said, placing a hand on either side of her face and looking at her intently. “He wouldn’t want you to do something you’d regret.”

“I would not regret breaking her nose,” she said in a huff. “Trust me, you should be happy I haven’t plotted a way to kill her yet.”

“I am, and I am very proud of you for showing that level of restraint,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Is Melody awake?”

“No,” she said.

“So you’re going stir crazy.”

“Yes.”

“Curl up next to your husband and go to sleep if you can.”

“I can’t.” It was obvious she was calming down, and if that had been the Doctor’s goal it was working beautifully. “He starts and flails around. He already smacked me in the face about twenty minutes ago.”

The Doctor removed his hands, settling them on her shoulders, and looked at her face closely. “Ah, yes. Your face is still a bit red. Go with John and get some ice for it.”

“But Doctor—“

“Go, Amelia. Take care of yourself. You know how he’ll be if he finds out he hurt you.”

She sighed and the Doctor lifted up his hands, and she trudged back up the steps and made her way back inside the heart of the TARDIS with John beside her. The Doctor then turned back to Irene. “I would apologize for her, but frankly I believe you deserved it,” he said to her softly. “You don’t know the lengths he’s gone through to save her. You don’t understand just how much they would do for each other.”

“I’m starting to get an idea,” she said quietly, rubbing at her face. She’d hit her in exactly the same spot that Dr. Watson had hit her. If she wasn’t going to have a black eye before she certainly was going to have one now.

“Jack, take her back to her room. I’ll bring ice. I don’t want a confrontation in the kitchen where there are sharp implements.”

“Got it,” he said with a nod. He let Irene get in front of him again and he gave directions to get back. When they got to the room she sat on the bed and he knelt in front of her. He tilted her chin up a bit and moved her face to the side to get a good look. “You’re definitely going to have a shiner,” he said.

“Lovely,” she said.

“What was your plan for Sherlock, anyway? I mean, why meet with him naked?”

“To intimidate, I suppose,” she said with a sigh. “To make him nervous. To see if he might be at all attracted. He didn’t seem fazed at all.” She lay back down on the bed, this time on her side, and looked at him. “Do you know them well?”

“Not really. Well, not Amy. I know Sherlock well enough. Traveled with him for a month while we looked for her.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Since the paparazzi started following her she’s never gone missing for a month. Three weeks after he was released from the hospital, yes, but not a month.”

“You’ve paid a lot of attention to Sherlock," he remarked, raising an eyebrow as he went back to the seat.

“There’s something very attractive about him,” she said, with as good a shrug as she could manage.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied.

“You’re gay?” she asked.

“I prefer pansexual,” he said. “Male, female, not necessarily human shaped, which by definition means not necessarily human…I love all different types of people.”

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “Things must be very different in the 51st century.”

“You have no idea,” he said with a grin. “But back to the story. There’s a group that doesn’t like the Doctor much. They kidnapped Amy when she was two months pregnant with their daughter, kept her hidden. Their child is…special. The group wanted to raise her to be a weapon. They had replaced her with something called a flesh duplicate. Amy was linked up the whole time, so she saw everything. When she was eight months pregnant the Doctor destroyed the duplicate, and by the time we found her she’d already given birth. Sherlock realized the baby they originally had was a fake, and then he terrified the woman who took her into telling them where his real daughter was.”

“How did he get her to tell him?”

“From what I was told, he fired a gun at a window and then stuck the muzzle of the gun under her chin while it was still hot and threatened to make it so she’d never walk again if his daughter wasn’t brought to him.”

Her eyes widened. “So their child isn’t actually adopted?” she asked after a moment.

Jack nodded. “Melody Holmes is Sherlock’s flesh and blood daughter.”

A strange look crossed her face. “I think if I had known this I would have tried a different technique to get his attention.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Jack said, leaning back in the chair slightly. “Amy’s got her hand gripped around his heart, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been that way since she was a kid and he just didn’t realize it. You could be the most attractive woman in the world, the smartest and most appealing, and prance around him naked and he won’t look at you twice. You are not Amy, plain and simple. In his worldview that makes you unimportant.”

“This is probably one of the most depressing conversations I’ve had in a long time,” she said with a dejected sigh. “I’ve never been that wrong about a person before.”

“It’s because there’s a lot more to him than meets the eye,” he said with a grin.

“And what about you?” she asked. “What type of mysterious past are you hiding?”

He looked at her, grin still on his face, when the Doctor knocked on the door. “I have your ice, Irene,” he said, handing her a plastic sandwich bag filled with ice.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting up and taking the ice. The Doctor had a thin hand towel in the other hand and she took that as well, wrapping the towel around the ice and putting it on her face.

“What hallucinogenic was in the syringe?” the Doctor asked.

“4-Acetoxy-DET,” she replied. “Liquid mushrooms, essentially. It’s a low dosage, eight milligrams. I don’t know what it’s mixed with.”

“All of those types of drugs have nasty consequences,” the Doctor said, making a face.

“This one does the least amount of damage,” she said. “I was assured of this by the people who sold it to me.”

“You had best hope he has no adverse effects,” he replied.

“He shouldn’t. It’s not habit forming.”

The Doctor nodded. “So now we wait, I suppose.”

“Yes,” she said with a nod of her own.

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” he said before leaving the room.

Jack watched him go, and then turned back to Irene. “Why would you have that on hand, anyway?”

“If I get someone close enough to give it to them, they get disoriented and I can escape. But mostly I like it for clients who want to try that sort of thing.”

“I forgot that you’re a dominatrix,” he replied.

“Have you ever thought about using one?” she asked.

“Crossed my mind once or twice,” he replied.

“It would be an entirely new experience for you, I imagine. You seem to be a man who likes to be in charge. I wonder if you would let go of the control you crave long enough to enjoy yourself.”

“One day maybe I’ll find out,” he replied.

She looked at him closely. “I don’t intimidate you.”

He shook his head. “After you’ve dealt with a Dalek not much intimidates you anymore.”

“What’s a Dalek?”

“An alien race hell-bent on destroying everything that isn’t a Dalek.”

“You must have led a fascinating life,” she replied. “Tell me more?”

He nodded. “Sure. Anything you want to know in particular?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” she replied.

“Then I’ll just start at the beginning,” he said, and he launched into his history. Irene thought briefly as she listened that perhaps she had found someone even more fascinating than Sherlock Holmes, and she had never imagined that to be possible. But she was interested, and this was a good way to pass the time.


	4. Chapter 4

He'd had hallucinations while awake and dreams while he was asleep. Of his life up to then, of those he knew best, and a lot of it had not been pleasant. Not all of it, but enough that when they slowed and then stopped he was not sure what was real and what wasn’t. When he felt himself going back to normal and realizing what was going on outside his head, he wasn’t sure he wanted to open his eyes.

But he heard a baby crying, and that snapped him out of it completely. He knew that cry. That was Melody. Whether it was a hallucination or not it was strong and clear. He opened his eyes, and looked up. He recognized the view. He was in the TARDIS, in the room he and Amy shared now. The crying continued and he heard a woman with a Scottish accent try to calm her down. Amelia. Amelia was there too. He turned his head and saw Amy pacing near the bed, Melody in her arms. “Are you real?” he asked quietly.

“You’re awake,” she said as she turned to him, relief on her face. “Yeah, I’m real,” she said. She walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed close to him. He reached up and touched her hair, tangling his fingers in it. “You acted very strangely when I got here and then a few hours ago you just passed out.”

He tried to sit up but his limbs felt tired and heavy, so much so that he dropped his hand from Amelia’s hair because he couldn’t keep it up anymore. “It was horrible,” he said quietly.

“I can imagine,” she said.

“Did John get Miss Adler here as well?” he asked.

Her face went dark. “Yes,” she said flatly.

“You’ve met her, I presume,” he said.

“I punched her in the face,” she replied. “I don’t like people who drug my husband.”

He felt a smile come to him. That was his Amelia, always willing to stand up for him in whatever situation she might be in. “She wasn’t expecting it, I take it?”

“No. That just made it better. I threatened to break her nose if she didn’t tell me what she gave you.”

“Good.” He was not pleased with Irene Adler at the moment. But Amelia had articulated her feelings on the matter well enough for him so he would let it go. “Is the phone I had still here?”

She nodded and reached over to the nightstand, picking it up. “Right here.”

“Good,” he said, shutting his eyes again. “Don’t lose it. It’s hers.”

“You don’t want her to get her hands on it?” she asked.

“No,” he replied. 

“I’ll keep it away from her, then,” she said. He felt her get up off the bed, and then felt her lips on his forehead. Amelia saying “Go back to sleep” was the last thing he heard. At least this time he did not dream. When he awoke the next time he felt Amelia laying down on her side next to him, her arm across his chest. He lifted his arm up again and the heavy feeling was gone, so he turned to face her and draped an arm over her waist. Her eyes fluttered open slowly and she looked at him with a grin. “Hello,” she said, her voice still tinged with sleep.

“You didn’t need to wake up,” he said.

“You really thought you could move and I wouldn’t wake up?” she said, raising an eyebrow before she yawned. “We go through this every night.”

“You’re tired. You should get some sleep,” he said.

“No, no, I’ll just grab some coffee from the kitchen,” she replied. She moved a little closer until their bodies were touching again, and he tightened his hold on her. “I’m just very glad you’re awake.”

“So am I. The visions were mostly unpleasant,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” She leaned in and kissed him. It was soft and lingering and he responded but then she pulled away. “That’s for not finding her attractive.”

He grinned slightly at that. “How did you know?”

“Because John said you made her put on your coat.” She smiled back at him. “I know you probably didn’t care, but you still made her put on the coat.”

“She’s attractive, I suppose, but she’s certainly not my type.”

“And just what is your type?” she asked.

“Scottish gingers,” he replied.

She laughed. “I knew there was a reason I loved you so much.” She kissed him again, this time much too quickly for his taste, then rolled over and got out of bed.

He watched her stretch for a moment, and then she offered him her hand. He took it and got out of the bed. He didn’t feel quite steady at first, and she supported him, but after a moment he felt okay. “Where’s the phone?” he asked.

“Still on the nightstand,” she replied.

He turned and picked it up, looking at it. He turned it on again. “I am locked, with four spaces above locked,” he murmured.

“Need her password?” Amy said.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Try s, h, e and then r,” she said. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “I am Sherlocked,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Mels used to say I was Sherlocked all the time when we were kids. A woman who greets you naked must have a thing for you, and supposedly she’s intelligent. It’s kind of catchy, to be honest, and you probably wouldn’t think of it.”

He keyed in the letters and then stared. “That was the right passcode,” he said.

“Told you. The woman has an obsession with you,” Amy said darkly. “I don’t like it.”

He didn’t say anything about her being jealous or paranoid because frankly he didn’t like it either and he thought she was right. He scrolled through the contents as Amy checked a sleeping Melody. “She has quite a few interesting pictures on here,” he said.

“You should feel lucky I don’t get jealous,” she muttered under her breath, bringing a slight grin to his face. She probably hadn’t thought he heard her. He stopped looking and pocketed the phone and went behind her to look at Melody. “Find what you were looking for?” she asked.

“No,” he said, reaching over to lightly touch his daughter’s hair, dark and curly like his. “I’ll just ask her where the pictures are.”

“I’d love it if you chucked her and the phone outside and let them float off into space,” she said.

“Can’t do that,” he said, moving his head and kissing his wife’s hair. “She needs protection.”

“Yeah, John told me about the Americans,” she said.

“I wish he hadn’t done that,” he said with a slight groan, his lips still nestled in her hair.

She moved her head, stepped away slightly and looked at him. “Well, he did. Look, I don’t like her one bit. If you can make sure she’s safe can you also make sure she’s far, far away? Or in another century? You’d be doing the people of Britain a favor, and I think even Mycroft would approve.”

“You know I don’t do things for his approval,” he said. “Any chance I get I do the opposite.”

“I know that,” she replied. “But it would be in everyone’s best interest. Even hers.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

“Thank you.” He reached over for her hand and grabbed it. She looked down at their hands and back up at him, raising her eyebrow slightly. “You’re more affectionate than usual.”

“It’s not a side effect, if that’s what you’re wondering. I just want to reassure myself that you’re real.”

“Ah,” she said, stepping back over to him. “I am very real. And whatever it was you were seeing, I’m not going away, I don’t hate you, I’m not going to divorce you and take Melody with me, and I’m not going to hurt you. Are we clear?”

He let go of her hand and put an arm around her waist. She grinned at him and put her arms around his neck. “Quite clear.”

“Good,” she said before kissing him. He had to admit that no hallucination could match up to the feeling he had any time he kissed her. He would have preferred to keep kissing her but there was a knock at the door and she pulled away. “Yes?”

“Is he awake yet?” John asked from the other side.

“Yes, I’m awake,” he replied, slightly irritated.

“Oh, good. We were getting worried. Irene had said six hours till you were okay, and it’s been seven. Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Amy said, letting go of Sherlock and going to the door to open it. She did and John walked in with the Doctor right behind him. “He’s okay. I won’t kill her, Doctor.”

“What are we supposed to do with her?” the Doctor asked, his brow furrowed. “Jack is keeping an eye on her. She took being in the middle of space rather well, meaning she didn’t pass out at the sight of stars all around. When I last checked in on them Jack was in the middle of telling her about how he helped tow Earth back into orbit.” The three of them gave him confused looks. “Apparently it never happened here. Timey-wimey wibbly-wobbly stuff. But he remembers it. She looked…fascinated.”

Sherlock tapped her phone against his chin. “Would you consider letting her stay aboard the TARDIS until a decision can be reached?”

“Please tell me she isn’t getting rewarded for her shenanigans,” Amy said, rolling her eyes. 

“I’d thought about it, once John told me about the Americans who paid a visit to her residence. I’m inclined to let her, but only for a short time.”

Amy crossed her arms. “I can’t believe this,” she said. “She’s a blackmailer at the very least, she drugs Sherlock and she gets to _stay_?” She glared at the Doctor. “Take me home. _Now._ ”

“Amelia—“ he began, but she held up a hand.

“If you don’t want me to change my mind and shove her out into space, take me home,” she said quietly in a cold voice.

The Doctor looked at Amy, then Sherlock. “Sherlock, do something.”

“Say a word and you can stay at John’s when this is all over,” Amy said to her husband, turning to look at him.

Sherlock looked at Amy, then the Doctor and then back to Amy. “You want her far away, correct?” he asked Amy.

“Yes,” she said, glaring.

“Then let’s figure out a place for her before this goes on much longer.” He turned to the Doctor. “Amelia does have a point. Getting to travel with you is a privilege, one she hasn’t earned.”

“I know,” the Doctor said with a sigh. “You’re not giving her back her phone, correct?” Sherlock nodded. “Sending her back to London without it is essentially sending her to her death. The Americans will try again. They’re nothing if not tenacious, like a rabid dog who has taken a bite of your leg and won’t let go.”

“Maybe Jack has an idea,” John suggested. “He’s spent more time with her than any of us today.”

“That is a good point,” Sherlock said. “Perhaps we should ask for his assistance.”

“All right. Do we want her input as well?” the Doctor asked. “It is her life we’re talking about.”

“Of course,” John said, and Sherlock nodded.

“Very well. Amelia, do you still want to go home?”

“Yes,” she said. “I don’t want to be involved in this meeting and I’ll go crazy if I have to stay in this room because who knows how long it will take for all of you to come to a decision.”

“Then we’ll take you and Melody home first. I’ll bring Sherlock back as soon as I can.”

“Fine.” The Doctor nodded to John, and they left. “You don’t have to stay at John’s place,” she said without looking at her husband.

“Good,” he said, moving so he was in her view. He reached his knuckle out and placed it under her chin, lifting it up so she was looking him in the eye. “I will always take your side, as long as your reasoning makes sense. If it’s irrational I won’t, though.”

Her stance softened and she uncrossed her arms. “You didn’t think I was irrational?”

He shook his head. “Maybe in the future she may earn the privilege to travel with the Doctor, but she hasn’t earned it yet, and it’s not fair for her to be rewarded for her actions today. But I will not let her have this phone back, and this is her protection. I may not like her, but I won’t put her in harm’s way, either. You may not like her, but if I did that you wouldn’t like me much, and you know that’s true.”

She sighed. “You’re right.”

“May I carry Melody out to the console room?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said with a smile. He went over to the crib and picked his daughter up, holding her close. She didn’t wake up at all. Holding her made him feel more normal. He and Amy made their way out of the room and down to the console room, where the Doctor and John were waiting.

“We’re here. I parked far enough away so you can catch a cab home, so it doesn’t look suspicious.”

“Thank you,” Amy said. Sherlock kissed his daughter’s forehead and then gave her to his wife. She smiled at him and the others. “I’ll have something for you to eat when you get home. I’m going to call Lorna over so you might as well come too, John.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Sherlock replied.

“Good,” she replied. She gave Sherlock a quick kiss, and then went to the car seat that she had carried Melody into the TARDIS in. She put Melody in, secured her, then picked her up and opened the door. And then she was gone.

Sherlock turned to the Doctor. “Let’s get Miss Adler and Jack. I want to get this over with.”

"Very well," the Doctor said, turning around and heading for the stairs with John behind him. Sherlock followed shortly thereafter, hoping that this could get taken care of as quickly as possible.


	5. Chapter 5

She had finally started to feel tired again when there was a knock on the door and the Doctor asked them to go to the library from the other side. She hadn’t known how long she and Jack had been talking, but she knew that she had been thoroughly entertained, and there was still so much more she wanted to learn about him. But Jack had nodded and said they’d be right there, and so their conversation ended and they left the room and went in the other direction this time.

Jack opened the door and while Irene thought she couldn’t be surprised anymore she was. It was a two story library with floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled with books and manuscripts and other things. Jack led her to a seat and she sat down. The Doctor and John Watson were there, as was Sherlock. Sherlock looked rather annoyed, and she saw he was playing with her phone. “I see you unlocked it,” she replied.

“Sherlocked. Clever,” he said without looking up.

“How did you figure it out?” she asked.

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “Someone else thought of it years ago and used that phrase to tease my wife. She suggested it.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. She found she had a somewhat grudging respect for the younger woman after Jack had told her some stories. Anyone who could survive seven months in captivity and still remain sane would earn it.

He finally looked at her. “I suppose by now you’ve realized I will not be returning your phone.”

She nodded. “I had guessed as much.” She looked at him intently. “That is my protection. My insurance.”

“Also your get out of jail free card,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied. “Without it I’m vulnerable.”

“And we do understand that,” the Doctor interjected. “But there’s a lot at stake. We could let you go back with a promise you won’t do it again and you could go right back to your old ways, and then it would be no different. I don’t want to run into this problem again.”

“So you have a suggestion?” she said.

“Not quite,” Sherlock said. “I will not give up the phone; that much has already been agreed upon. Do you wish to return to London and resume your old life?”

“I live a nice life. It would be a shame to have to give it up,” she replied. “I see this might not be an option anymore, however.”

“I can take you anywhere, to any point in history,” the Doctor said. “Even points that haven’t happened yet. I can even take you to another planet. Your…skills…could work elsewhere.”

She gave him a wry smile. “What would happen to my things? My home?”

“You could always take some of it with you. Not everything, certainly, but some of it,” the Doctor replied. “We can also clear out your bank account. I can get your money changed over to the currency of whatever place and time you choose, so you won’t be destitute.”

“Do I get any time to think this over?” she said.

The Doctor and Sherlock both nodded. “Yes,” Sherlock said. “It is your decision, after all.”

“A decision made at gun point, so to speak,” she replied.

“You can stay here to make your decision if you want,” the Doctor said, standing up from his chair.

“Thank you,” she said. Sherlock and John also rose, and the three of them left. Jack remained behind, and she looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t want to leave me in peace?”

“I’m here to offer suggestions,” he said with a grin.

“Ah,” she said with a slight smile. “Where would you suggest I go?”

“Not to the past. You’re a modern woman, you wouldn’t fit in very well with stricter morals. The future wouldn’t be bad. You don’t even need to go far; pop up twenty years down the line somewhere and start over.”

“I had thought you would suggest some exotic locale or a time period much farther away,” she said, standing up and moving to the closest bookshelf.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, time travel,” Jack said. “The 2030s aren’t bad. The world didn’t end in 2012, and things actually settled down a lot in the world in 2023. You could go back to London and settle there. Go back to doing what you do and just be more careful next time.”

She thought about it. “Have you been to London then?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No, I was in other places.”

“Where?” she asked.

“California, mostly,” he replied. “San Diego county, to be exact. It’s a beautiful place. I wanted to go somewhere where I could find a lot to do, after some bad things had happened. I’d go back there if I had the chance.”

She turned and looked at him. “Even if I was there?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Might even be more interesting that way.”

“Do you find me interesting?” she asked.

“A bit, yeah,” he replied. “I haven’t had much of a chance to learn about you today. You’ve been busy learning about me, though. Think you could stand me for a neighbor?”

“I think so,” she said with a smile. “You’re a fascinating man, Jack Harkness. And I think there’s quite a bit more that you haven’t told me. More layers to expose.” She walked over to him. “Do you want to get to know me as well?”

He nodded. “I would like to,” he replied.

She got close to him and looked intently. “I suppose I may take your advice on this matter,” she murmured.

“It’s good advice,” he said quietly.

She leaned in slightly but there was a knock at the door and she pulled away, sighing slightly. “Yes?” she said.

“Have you made a decision yet?” Sherlock asked from the other side of the door.

She rolled her eyes slightly. “I think I might have to hurt him,” she said.

“I wouldn’t. Then Amy really would kill you,” he said with a slight laugh.

“True.” She stepped back some more and looked at the door. “Yes, I’ve made a decision,” she said in a louder voice.

The door opened and the other three men looked at her. “Well?” Sherlock replied.

“I want to go to San Diego, in…” She looked at Jack.

“2031,” Jack replied. “La Jolla would probably be a good place to go.”

The Doctor looked at Jack. “Are you going with her?” he asked, slightly surprised.

He nodded. “I think it’s time we part ways for now. I liked it there, and I want to go back. And she’s not bad company. You can think of it as me keeping an eye on her for you, if you want.”

“Very well,” the Doctor said with a nod. “Let’s get started sorting everything out. I’ll drop Sherlock and John off first, and then we can start getting things ready.”

“Of course,” she replied. The three men left again and she looked at Jack. “Keeping an eye on me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think it could be an enjoyable task,” he said with a grin.

“I’ll make it as enjoyable as possible,” she said to him. “I can guarantee that much.”

“It’ll be interesting to see how you fit in with that life,” he said.

“I suppose I’ll adapt soon enough,” she said. “Since you’ll be helping, at any rate.”

“You can count on that.” He looked at her. “You sure you won’t get bored with me after a while?”

She looked at him for a long moment before she spoke. “I don’t think I’ll get bored with you. I get the feeling you’re full of surprises.”

“I guess I am,” he said with a grin. “Want to go back to what we were talking about?”

She nodded, sitting back down but closer to him this time. “Yes. You were telling me about the woman who had to have sex, from when you were running Torchwood 3?”

He launched back into the story and a short time later the Doctor came back to collect them. They began the process of ending her life in 2011 London and trying to get things set up for 2031 La Jolla. The two men moved select pieces of her furniture and clothing onto the TARDIS, and Jack accompanied her as she withdrew her money from all her accounts. She had thought that the idea of leaving her life behind would not make her in any way excited, but as time went on she found the idea of spending time with Jack to be appealing and something she actually wanted.

The Doctor helped her pick out a home to move into, a spacious place nestled deep in a quiet community for those with more money than the average person. She got settled in quickly, and soon it was just her and Jack. The Doctor had set her up with provisions, and they were enjoying a light meal as the sun set in the horizon. He hadn’t told her where he would be staying, only that it wasn’t terribly close by, and she found herself thinking she should keep him with her for a while, at least until she adjusted to the new time.

“I should get going,” he said.

“You should stay,” she said, deciding to go with the forthright approach. She looked at her new phone, picking it up. The only contacts on it were the Doctor and Jack, so it wasn’t as though she couldn’t get a hold of him if needed.

“For how long?”

“At least tonight,” she replied. “Nothing has to happen, though I wouldn’t say no if it did. But I’m brand new here, and there isn’t much I know about this place or this time yet. Company would be nice.”

He nodded slowly. “I can stay tonight. But on one condition.”

“What?” she asked.

“You tell me about you,” he replied. “Your life, your experiences. I’ve always wondered how people choose your type of profession.”

She smiled slightly. “If that’s the only condition, I’ll take it.” He leaned back in his seat and she watched as she sipped her wine. “I’ll start from the beginning then,” she said, and she began to tell him about her. Her life hadn’t been pleasant at points, but he had told her about the hard times he had so she did the same. By the time she had finished it was very late, close to two in the morning. She only stopped because she was getting tired.

“You should get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll take the sofa.”

“One day I’ll get you in my bed,” she said with a slightly seductive smile.

“Probably, yeah,” he said with a grin. “But not tonight. Good night, Irene.”

“Good night, Jack,” she said, getting up. She made her way to her room, changed and climbed into bed. There was something comforting about having him there, she thought as she started to fall asleep. It was a nice feeling. She hoped she could convince him to stay the next evening as well. And then finally she was asleep, her thoughts filled with thoughts of what this new time and place could hold.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock had delivered Irene Adler’s phone, along with the password, to Mycroft the afternoon of the day after he had been drugged. He had felt some of the aftereffects of the sedative the next day and Amy had insisted he sleep in, and he decided to take Lestrade up on the case he’d offered so he dropped off the phone on his way to Scotland Yard. Sherlock hoped this was the last he had to see of Mycroft until the celebration Amy was planning for the wedding which most everyone had missed.

So it was a surprise to see Mycroft arrive at his home a few hours after getting the phone. Mrs. Hudson had a strange look on her face when she told Sherlock who was at the door. He told her to send him right back out but Mycroft, ever the bully, made his way inside anyway. Amy was making dinner and he had been studying the case Lestrade had given him while Melody was playing in the playpen near him. “I would like to know how you did it,” Mycroft said.

“Did what?” Sherlock asked, not looking up.

“Helped Irene Adler escape. She was spotted yesterday at her bank, withdrawing all her funds with a man who I have seen in photographs entering this home. We got into her home today and furniture is missing but no one saw movers.” 

“I haven’t a clue how she did it, Mycroft,” he said.

“Was it the Doctor?” he asked mildly. A dropped pot could be heard in the kitchen and Sherlock looked up sharply. “I know the man with her was Jack Harkness, formerly of Torchwood Three. I know all about your precious Doctor, Sherlock. I know he has the means to make something like this happen.”

“How do you know?” Sherlock asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I have my hands in many government agencies. I know that UNIT has had dealings with him twice in the last few months, to take care of a threat called The Silence. I know he supposedly died while you were in America. I assume you were there when he died, the both of you. I know he faked his death because he’s been seen coming into this residence many times since April 22nd. I am not stupid, Sherlock. I keep tabs on you and those you associate with.”

Amy came out to join in the conversation more fully. “So what if he helped that woman escape? She’s probably on another planet or in another time period. You don’t need to worry about her anymore. He got you the pictures back, plus any other blackmail she had. It’s done. Let it go.”

“It’s raised more questions, and people want answers. The Americans are after her. They want to know and they’re breathing down our necks.”

“You’ll have to wait about twenty years to see her again, but she’s in La Jolla, California,” Sherlock said. “I’d suggest you just cover it up like you do everything else the Doctor’s involved in.”

Mycroft leaned on his umbrella slightly. “So he is involved,” he said.

“Yes. Not that you’ll particularly care, but she drugged me the day we went to her home. Before it overtook me I told John to get her aboard the TARDIS. Then after I came to and the drugs had left my system she was given the chance to choose when and where she wanted to go because I told her there was no way she was getting the phone. Jack made the suggestion and he’s with her, keeping an eye on her. She is no longer a threat to the Queen or her family.” He turned back to his papers. “Let it go.”

“What does he see in the two of you?” Mycroft asked. “I’m assuming he is the Raggedy Doctor you talked about as a child, Amelia.”

She nodded. “Yeah, he is. He’s our friend. He cares about us. He worries about us. There has been so much that has happened that you don’t know about, Mycroft, and he was there fixing it like he fixes everything else. He fixed your problem for you. Be grateful.”

“You disappeared for a time, didn’t you?” he asked her, more curious than accusing.

“Yes. I was kidnapped in January, when I was two months pregnant. I was replaced. The Doctor and Sherlock brought me home four months ago, more or less.”

“I thought as much. Your daughter looks too much like the both of you. I wasn’t fooled by the adoption news at all.” He sighed. “Are you sure Miss Adler will not be a problem anymore?”

“Not to you,” Sherlock replied, looking up again. “Possibly to the Americans twenty years down the line. It depends on what kind of influence Jack can wield on her.”

“Very well.” He went back to the door and paused. “What is it like?”

“What is what like?” Sherlock asked.

“Traveling with him.”

“It’s a wonderful experience,” Amy said. “Sometimes there’s danger, and there’s an awful lot of running when that happens. There are moments where you don’t think you’ll get out of the situation alive. But there’s other moments where you just feel something I can’t explain. Moments where everything, like the Universe and time, and your place in things, where it all makes sense. Those are the moments I like the most.”

“You are very lucky,” Mycroft said almost wistfully.

“Would you like to go with him?” Amy asked quietly. “We can ask for you.”

He shook his head. “I’m too old, and too stuck in my ways. I could never enjoy it the way you two do.”

Amy walked over to him, and kissed his cheek softly. “If you change your mind, just let us know,” she said.

He looked at her, surprised, and then nodded. “I’ll let you know if I do.” And with that he walked out the door and left.

Amy shut the door and moved over to Sherlock. “I’ve never felt sorry for him before today,” she said quietly as she sat beside him. “And now I do.”

“He’s right, though. He probably wouldn’t have the same type of experience we’ve had,” he said. He put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him. “But he might change his mind.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh.

“Was there anything in that pot you dropped?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I was about to put water in it for the pasta. Why?”

“I was going to offer to help clean up,” he said.

“No, you stick with the case,’ she said with a grin. “I’ll have dinner ready soon.” She gave him a quick kiss and got up, and he watched her head back into the kitchen. One day, perhaps, his brother would get to experience the Doctor firsthand. It would be an interesting encounter, he mused to himself. Then he drove the thought out of his mind and got back to work. After all, he thought to himself, the case wasn’t going to solve itself.


End file.
